Krakoa
by Panther Nesmith
Summary: What if you woke up one day and found out half of your life was an elaborate lie?
1. Scott

TEN YEARS LATER

The light was blinding, and horribly painful. His mind searching for the link to Emma, to see if she knew anything. Hell, he wondered if she was even still there. There was a feeling like being jerked backward all at once, and he realized, in a rather detached way, that he was falling backward, as though he had been close to an explosion. There was no sound, which he noted, but was not surprised by. Everything seemed unreal, as though it were happening to someone else entirely. The thought that it might not be happening to him flashed through his mind, though he didn't know where it came from. Maybe it had come from nowhere. Maybe it was time to get up and take charge of the situation.

He didn't move. Not much, at least. Was he bound? What the hell was going on? His time with Emma had taught him how to defeat bonds (much to her amusement), so he tried to do that. The feeling of disconnection was gone now, and he realized how relieved he was. He could hear the others around him again, and he hoped to God they hadn't been hurt too terribly. Within moments, Scott realized two things. The first was that the lights above him were merely fluorescent bulbs on a white background. The second was that he wasn't able to move much at all, though he couldn't understand why that was. It felt like he was in Jell-o. Very heavy, lead-laced Jell-o. No matter what he tried to move, it either wouldn't budge, or barely moved. He could move his arms a little, though, and even that was achingly painful.

There was movement next to him, a cord waving. With a little deduction, he realized the cord moved when he twitched his arm. "Wanda! What have you done?" His voice surprised him. It was so weak! And even that much activity tired him beyond belief. He laid back, closing his eyes, wondering if he was going to pass out now or not. After a moment, the exhaustion subsided, and he opened his eyes again. The light was bright, but his glasses shielded him from the glare. He could hear a couple of the others groaning about it. At least that was one pain he wouldn't have to deal with. Though it struck him, after a moment, that one of the voices was out of place.

"Scott?" The voice that replied to his was achingly familiar, and Scott felt his entire chest tighten for a different reason. How? None of this made sense. He moved his head toward the voice, seeing only a curtain. Jean was here. He didn't bother wondering how that was possible. He scoured his mind for any of the people he had linked with. Only one lit up, his connection with the Professor. He concentrated on it, and found himself met with boundless, unbridled joy, which was confusing as hell, but oddly encouraging.

He found his voice again, and tried to talk as loudly as he could. "Jean? Who else . . . ?" He wanted to keep talking, but he was so tired. He nearly passed out from the effort, but he heard the curtain being pulled aside, and tensed himself for whatever was coming. A cheerful woman about Emma's height (in her favorite heels), with soft brown hair and pouty lips walked in. Her motions were precise, and her expression was curious, mixed with something else. Something good, or at least Scott assumed so.

Her accent said New England, and mirrored the joy he'd found in the link with Xavier. "Oh my God. It's a miracle." She quickly walked over, her body moving the same way that Emma's did, though it was shaped entirely differently. She laid a slightly cold hand on his forehead, and began checking the equipment around him. "Spectacular. It seems as though you have full mental functionality." Her voice was almost identical, and if Scott closed his eyes, he couldn't tell the difference between her and the woman he was coming to love. His heart twisted again, and he was getting tired of that very rapidly.

"Who?" The word was nearly a sigh, and Scott felt as though his brain were about to explode. What the hell had Wanda done? He squinted at her, realizing that his visor was differently shaped. How strange. Nothing made sense. The nurse (because he figured that was her function, since she was in white scrubs) wrote some things down, and he felt a familiar tickle in his mind, which he immediately stamped down. She blinked and rubbed her temples, looking shocked.

"Very effective. Professor Xavier will be proud. I'm Emma Frost, I was called in to help with your care. I really should call Miss Braddock I suppose. But she's so busy these days- I'm sorry, you're probably a little disoriented. How are you feeling, Scott?" Her tone went through a variety of emotions, and her face mirrored them. It was almost bizarre, seeing her face take on so many emotions in such a short span of time. The whole time she talked to him she made eye contact, or what eye contact she could. Even that was warm, as though she regarded him as a equal, rather than an inferior being who had to prove himself.

He blanched, and she quickly moved to check his pulse and brain functions, afraid that he might be relapsing. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Jean called her a bitch. She turned toward the curtain to his right, confused. "I think I'll wait until the Professor gets here. . . I don't want to make this harder for you than it has to be." She looked confused and mystified, which looked odd to Scott, on her face. Even if the nose was different, now that he was mostly conscious, it was obviously her face. What had happened to them? He felt anger, real true anger, that this had been done to Emma. When she walked to check on the curtain to his right, she moved more tentatively.

There were more voices now. Another woman, Lorna, and Alex were talking softly, but he didn't think that was for any reason other than the inability to sustain any kind of energy. Beyond that there were even more voices. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a boisterous English woman walked in, asking Emma how the patients were. His heart monitor registered the spike, and Emma stroked his arm a little, to settle him. It was just a noise. No big deal. Emma's reply slid over his mind a little, and Scott found himself drifting off to sleep again. If he ever found Wanda, he was going to wring her neck.

***

The next time Scott woke up, it was because something had touched his neck. He jerked, still surprised at how little he could move. Emma didn't jump, but smiled down at him, giggling a little. "You all are so jumpy. I'm sorry. It's time for your bath. I thought you'd stay asleep through it. I suppose I shouldn't have confused being in a coma for being a heavy sleeper." Her fingers tucked his hospital gown back down. "Are you feeling better?" Her tone was chipper and cheerful, as though nothing had ever happened between them that would merit any other response. He guessed Jean must be elsewhere, now. Maybe that was for the best. One lost lover was enough for now.

"Emma," his voice _was_ stronger now. "What happened?" He felt so confused and tired. The strong, beautiful woman he loved had been turned into a sad mockery, and there were even more of his friends here. How would he deal with seeing them all so different? What if Alex hated him, or Henry was a stupid sheep, or any other number of things. He wondered if he was more angry or afraid. It would be better if he wasn't so helpless. If Emma had been an enemy (and at the moment, he had no proof she wasn't), she could have killed him easily.

She smoothed his hair a little, as though she wanted to wipe those thoughts away. He wasn't sure what to make of her, really. "May I sit with you, Mr. Summers? I find that it often makes people more at ease when they are able to look the person they are speaking to in the eye." As she said it, she pressed the button to raise the bed into the upright position. He gave her a nod, wanting, needing to know what she thought was going on. Maybe it was a ruse? That was more than possible. She sat gracefully, and Scott saw that she was, in fact, wearing heels. It looked odd, under her scrubs.

She noticed his glance, or perhaps his thoughts. "Ah. I was called away from my normal business to help here, and I forgot to bring more comfortable shoes. Luckily, these are the most comfortable heels I own, so I'm not ready to flee for the sake of my feet just yet. What do you remember, Scott? Before you woke up?" She shifted between the two topics with little flair, as though they were still the same subject.

He told her about it. About Wanda's insanity, the way that Xavier had been acting, the bright light. . . all of it. She listened patiently, her face set into a pleasant mask. Finally he finished, and just lay there, feeling even more exhausted. Her face was unreadable, and he felt slightly better, oddly enough. A dangerous Emma he could handle. A mild-mannered caretaker Emma was just wrong.

"You were having quite the dream, then. But the brain does what it must to remain sane, I suppose. None of that happened, Scott." Her tone was soft and understanding, perfectly reasonable. He felt his heart sink. "You've been in a coma. It's been years. This is the first time we've met, beside when you first woke up." She sighed and stood. "Miss Grey had a different story, but all the rest are variations on that theme. It's so strange that you would all dream the same thing. But it was, I assure you, just that."

"She died. . . this is all Wanda's fault." He felt so heavy, like his heart was made of lead. "I- How could that have happened. What do you think happened?" She didn't love him. She didn't even remember him. That hurt. It hurt a lot. But at the same time, it was a relief. He wished that things would only feel one way, for once. Even his weakness was a mixed blessing, in his mind. It relieved him of the heavy duties that had been put on him his whole life. It forced other people to take charge. He wondered if he was burning out again. Bad timing for it. He'd deal with that later, once things were back to normal.

Emma started to talk, and he realized that she was going to tell him what had happened. Zoning out was too easy. It had to be part of Wanda's design. "You were battling Krakoa. It took months for the second team to find you. You were being held in some manner of psionic prison. . . we had to bring the sentient plant that was holding you here. Since then the Professor, and later Miss Braddock and myself, have been trying to bring you back. When we broke through, you awoke. Since then you have all been in and out of sleep." She made sure her tone was even and matter of fact. "It has been. . . some time. That is why you are having such a difficult time moving. You and your compatriots have been under for over a decade."

When she spoke, her tone wasn't sympathetic. These were facts to her. It was nice, actually, to have things presented to him by a rational, calm voice. That didn't soften the blow much, though. Truth be told, the words didn't even sound real to Scott. "What? What the hell?" He sat forward, will alone keeping him from falling over. "You're lying. You have to be." She must be trying to trick him. But why? Was this Wanda's doing or hers?

Emma blinked, then exhaled softly, pausing to find the right words. "They said that you would be the most stubborn about it all. Lie back, Scott." She placed her palm on his chest and pushed him until he settled back down. "I will show you everything that has transpired. I have done it for all the others who have come back to their senses, save Jean, who didn't trust me enough." For a moment, her expression showed her annoyance. She moved her hand from his chest to his temple. "Would that help you?"

He didn't answer right away. But information was important, it might even contain the key to breaking through all this. He nodded. She closed her eyes, concentrating. The events passed in a whir of color and motion. At least the ones Emma knew about. Mutants were considered to be equal to humans in every European country and most of the states. The president had a mutant son, who had manifested in the middle of the White House lawn, which had radically changed how he, and the world at large, viewed mutants. Xavier's Institute was now working in co-operation with the government, and Emma was the principal of the first federally funded mutant training facility.

The X-men had been officially disbanded, though there were two other organizations that had taken their place. X-Factor was a government agency that looked into mutant crime. X-Force was a mercenary organization with the same goal. Between them, they managed to get a lot done, though the odds were immeasurable. Mutants were just popping up faster than they could be controlled or recruited. Usually they found the help they needed through outreach programs, but not everyone did as well. More than a couple mutants with unfortunate mutations had been put down by X-Force.

As she was 'speaking', a young boy wandered in. He was no more than ten, and looked up at Emma with large blue eyes. She smiled softly at him, stroking his hair with her free hand as she released Scott from the information dump. "There is one thing that the Professor thought best to keep from you. But I disagree." Her tone indicated that there were many subjects where that was the case. That made him feel a little better. At least some things didn't change.

He eyed the boy, and he knew what it was she was going to say. "Tell me." The child was the spitting image of Cable. Scott felt a certain amount of hysteria creeping up on his brain as he tried to take all the implications in.

She nodded, lifting the boy up on to the bed, so that he was close to Scott. "When we brought Jean here, we discovered that she was pregnant. The Professor has assured her that you are the father of the boy. He was named Nathaniel, after the man who wrote the Scarlet Letter. A rather cruel thing to do, but not inaccurate." She hoped that Scott wouldn't become too upset. Nathaniel had been his adoptive mother's idea, and it certainly was a dignified name, so there wasn't much they could do to talk her out of it. Emma hoped that Scott wouldn't react badly. She couldn't even imagine what she'd do in his place, but it wouldn't be pretty.

He didn't seem to react at all, to her surprise. After a moment, he smiled wanly, reaching an arm out. Though he wanted to touch the boy's face, all he could manage was to pat his knee. The boy gave him a quizzical look. "Dad said he was a cyclops." The boy's tone was blunt. It was also just like the voice that Nathan had used when he was around that age.

Emma giggled a little, and Scott let out a soft laugh. "No, that was his fun pretend name. Like your Mom. Everyone calls her Domino, even though her real name is Amy." Amy? Scott had to hold back another laugh at that. Maybe that was why Domino was so secretive. If things ever went back to normal, he'd have to ask if that was her real name. Not that he thought she'd tell him.

The boy nodded gravely. "Can my pretend name be something cool?" That was the more important thing right now. "I don't want people thinking I only have one eye." He squinted at Scott a little bit. "He's got two, right? The glasses-" He reached out to take them, curious now.

Realizing what the boy was about to do, Scott yelled and scared the boy, who jumped off the bed. This made the little boy yell in return, though out of a different kind of fear. Emma jumped as well, quite shocked. "What in the Lord's name was that?" The boy ran off, no longer curious. Scott settled back, relieved. At least he hadn't hurt the kid.

His reply to Emma's words sounded weary, and he wondered if it was a product of Wanda's spell, or just the sheer amount of information he'd been asked to take in. "You can't take my visor off. It would have killed the boy and you." Despite how his voice sounded, he moved to a more upright posture, and gave Emma his best steely stare.

Emma stared at him for a moment, her expression simply flabbergasted. "But you're conscious. They shouldn't be out of control anymore." She was confused. He wouldn't have known about the lengths they went to in order to make sure his eyes never opened. "Are you unable to control your powers?" It was the only logical answer. She had only a vague idea of what his powers really were, since the emphasis had been on getting them out of the Astral Plane, and not on getting to know them.

He glared at her, thoroughly out of the mood for this game. Emma sighed and stood. "I suppose you'll be fine without a bath for the moment. I apologize for disturbing you, but it is only going to become more jarring as time progresses." She smoothed her scrubs as she stood, as though she were used to finer clothing and took her leave. Her heels clicked loudly on the tile floor, a familiar sound that reminded him again that he missed his home, and no amount of dodged responsibility or rest was going to change that.

Scott rested his head against his pillow, groping for the control to lower his bed. Damn. A lot of things had happened. He was going to need a while to digest all this.

***

Slowly, the group became more and more active. Beside Emma and Betsy, they called in Guido and Jamie to help take care of the X-men. Emma and Betsy attempted to help them distinguish reality from their elaborate group dream. Jamie and Guido helped with physical therapy. Within a couple weeks most were able to stand. Lorna and Jean were able to float with their powers faster than that, and did so gleefully. Even just wandering the lab brought new wonders everyday. Lorna talked about how miraculously fast the computer was, and was soon showing everyone who would tolerate it YouTube videos of cats doing cute things, or random skateboard tricks. She always said, when called on it, that it sure as hell beat brooding over the alternative. Beside, maybe the answer was within the confines of YouTube. You never know. Then she would go back to the laptop ("under ten pounds! ha!"), and find something else to look at.

Jean spent a lot of time looking through the news websites, catching up on the things that were different. She remembered _every_thing. This was an alternate universe, and a pretty damn good one too. She couldn't remember the future the Phoenix had shown her for this place, but she knew that places that didn't draw the entity's attention very much were very much nicer than ones that did. She also eagerly shared all of this, though she was often awkward around Scott. In fact, she tended to avoid him entirely, and duck out of the room when he was present.

Scott worked hard to be able to stand and walk again. He wanted to be let out, to see what had changed with his own eyes. The Professor had come in a few times, to talk with them, reassure them, but he was busier than ever with a student body he claimed was in the thousands, and that was just at this particular campus! It was an amazing and thrilling idea. Maybe this was what they had been working so hard for. Part of him regretted that Emma hadn't come back since she'd left after the visit with Nathan, but he supposed it was for the best. If what she said was true, and she wasn't the woman he'd fallen in love with, it would be better to not see her very often. There was no sense in torturing himself, after all. He had enough of that during his physical therapy sessions.

After a month, most of the group could walk short distances. Scott had been shocked to see Gabriel there, though it took several hours for him to realize why. In his dreams he didn't know he had another brother, which was odd. How could he not remember that? Sure, he wasn't as close to the man as he was to Alex, but that didn't make him instantly forgettable. It was another thing that was confusing and weird, but relatively low on the list. He'd only been introduced to his youngest brother a few days before the incident at Krakoa.

After seeing how all of the students were struggling with their memories, the Professor decided that a group therapy session was in order, so the whole team could see the changes wrought in the eleven years they'd been dreaming from his perspective. Jean looked forward to it eagerly. Scott felt horrible for her. She had taken the news of Nathan's existence rather badly, and spent a lot of time talking to Henry about it, since their relationship was so unsure.

It didn't surprise Scott how much that hurt him. He was becoming more and more certain of this world, and its reality. Alex had embraced it openly, and frequently talked about how ridiculous the dream was. Bobby seemed to agree, but Scott wasn't sure if Bobby really agreed or was just saying so to convince himself. Either way, all of them, including him, were beginning to see this world as real, and the other one as false. But he couldn't deny that it was hard to see Jean and not think of the things she had done in the dream.

The seats for the meeting were uncomfortable. It was the first time Scott had sat on something that didn't have a lot of padding. He hadn't realized how much muscles cushion the body from ordinary things. Now that he had access to a mirror, it was easy to see how much different he looked from the man in his dreams. Even without the frailty of his body (which had shocked him beyond belief the first time he'd seen himself), he had fewer lines on his face, not as many grey hairs. . . this wasn't the face of a man who had lived a hard, painful life.

He shifted frequently as the others got settled. Warren's wings drooped listlessly behind him, but Scott knew how much of an effort it was for him just to lift them that far. Jean sat a couple seats down from him, looking mostly at her hands. Henry was sitting next to her, the least affected by the downtime. Everyone else filed in, slowly. Lorna sat across from Warren, far away from Scott. Alex sat next to him, though that was likely because by the time the man came in the room was nearly full. There was an empty space in the circle, which everyone understood was for the Professor.

He entered smoothly, his chair not making a sound as it hovered. He slid into the open space, smiling proudly at the group. "Welcome, X-men. How have you been adjusting?" It felt like old times, at first. They were just getting ready to suit up for another battle, or have breakfast, or start a Danger Room session.

At first, no one said anything. Finally, Jean piped up. "It beats being dead, I guess." Bobby laughed, but even that was strained. Scott eyed the team, seeing how it had affected them. They all looked weary, and he knew he felt that way too.

The Professor smiled, though there was sadness in it as well. "I am glad that none of you are dead. But your adjustment will be difficult. A lot has changed since we first came into existence. I will show you everything you've missed, if you think you're ready."

There was a moment of silence. Scott found himself nodding, and this was followed by the rest agreeing. Even after the dream, even after all this time, they still looked to him. He felt the familiar weight of leadership, and wondered if it wouldn't break him this time around.

The Professor drew the group into the Astral Plane. It was easier, he said, to show them here, given the amount of time that had passed. They were in the mansion as they remembered it. A tall black woman with white hair was standing imperiously by the door, asking the Professor what exactly he wanted with her, and how it could possibly be more important than her people in Kenya. A short man was leaning against the wall, chewing on a cigar. He was nearly hidden behind a metal man, who towered over everyone there. An impish man with deep blue fur and a tall man with an authoritative air rounded out the group. _These are the ones who saved your bodies. They helped Darwin and Gabriel infiltrate the island, though Gabriel was subsequently lost with you all_

"But I didn't have the same dream. It was all just nothing." The unfamiliar voice made Scott blink a bit, before remembering the stranger in their midst. The confusion in his voice made Scott feel worse about his own confusion. But at least this man probably wouldn't look to him for answers.

_I know._ The Professor showed them the rescue, their comatose bodies being brought into the medical facility. _It's extremely odd that they all shared that dream in the first place. I almost wonder if Jean's powers created that reality to keep her sane, and since you were all linked to each other when you were knocked out, your minds were swept up into it as well. It makes as much sense as anything else. I only wish we knew more about the island._ It was a well-worn thought, and it surprised most of the group to hear him sounding so frustrated. His next words were gentler, as though he had heard the shock at his tone and felt repentant for upsetting them. _It has been a puzzle that taxed my mind for over a decade, even now that you're awake, I don't understand. . . by all rights, I don't think you should have woken up_.

That statement ushered in another bout of quiet, during which they watched the second batch of X-men fight, train, expand, and eventually split into separate groups. Even as the X-men grew, the ranks of students, mutants with powers that were impractical for battle, or whose temperament was unsuited for the task, began forming. Superheroes were becoming more and more common, and super villains less and less so. Especially shocking to the students was watching Magneto join the institute as a teacher, combining his efforts with Xavier's for the greater good.

Slowly, the X-men began living civilian lives, and the institute truly became a school. Teachers were being recruited straight out of college, including Emma Frost and her mentor Sebastian Shaw.

The last thing Xavier showed, them, though it wasn't the most recent event was the signing of the tolerance act, which stated that all sentient life was to be given equal treatment in the eyes of the law. Xavier had become advisor for X-Factor, a government agency that kept superhuman and alien activity under control. it was manned and led exclusively by mutants.

The end of the simulation and the return to their individual bodies did not break the silence of the group. Even Gabriel, easily the least attached of the group, didn't seem to have anything to say. Scott nodded and stood. "Thank you, Professor. That was beautiful, but you have to understand that it's so incredible, after all that we dreamed, that something like that could be the truth."

There were mumbled of agreement, and Jean was the next to stand. "It's a beautiful world, Professor Xavier, but we have no way of knowing if this is a trick or not." Her voice was a bit numb, but her shoulders were set. Scott smiled a bit. Even if he had no idea what was going on, he could admire her strength.

Bobby shot out of his seat, angry. "After the bullshit our stupid brains spat out at us for years, you guys are acting like this is some kind of burden! How can you possibly prefer that reality to this on?" He nearly shook with rage, and Warren scooted a little away, but remained seated.

He did, however, have something to say. "It's not that we prefer it, Bobby. But the dream was so real, and this all just feels-' He made a vague motion with his hand, then shrugged, "too good to be true." After everything Warren had been through in the dream, Scott could see how he wouldn't trust his perception of reality.

Henry was the next to pipe up. His voice was calm and soothing. Out of all of them, he had changed the least. It had been a relief, in a way. "It does make sense though, from a certain perspective. A mind as active as a telepath's would necessarily be would probably self-stimulate to keep itself from degrading. And we iwere/i linked when we were captured."

Jean huffed a little. "It's not my fault." Her tone was a little irritated. Scott wondered how much of the Jean in their dreams was based on Jean's actual personality. Could this woman become he Phoenix? Would she mentally rape someone? Not to mention the destruction and the pain that the Phoenix had caused. Did her dreams of her actions reflect aspects of her personality? It was a sad thing, in Scott's mind, that he didn't even know if he could trust the people he should be closest to.

Henry turned, surprised at Jean's comment. "I didn't intend to upset you, Jean. I was merely offering a hypothesis." He gave her a consoling pat, and Scott could see that even though Henry's personality had changed the least, he had to most to adjust to. At least all the rest of them were the same shape they'd started in, except older and more fragile.

Gabriel shook his head. "You're all acting like babies. It happened, now we're here. I'm not going to look back on the random shit I dreamt up for the rest of my life. I've already lost ten years, I'm not losing another second." He stood, wobbling a little. Despite that, he was steady on his feet as he went to the door. "I'd suggest you all get over it and quit moping over what never happened."

The door closed softly, but a couple people winced anyway, expecting a loud noise that never came. Alex ran his hand through his hair. "I guess it's my turn to complain or whatever. Honestly. . . I don't even know what to think. I mean. . . I had so much, and now I don't even know where I stand in the world, or with anyone." Scott noticed a slight change in both Alex and Lorna's expression, and wondered what that was about. It would undoubtedly make its way into the light at some point. Everyone looked at Lorna for a minute, but she just shrugged and dug the tips of her toes into the carpet.

Xavier nodded, a soft, enigmatic smile on his face. "I'll let all of you digest that information. The rest of our work will probably be one on one, but this was a good start." His words were kind, like a favorite uncle's. Scott found himself rising, still surprised at how much effort it took. He would probably talk to the Professor later. But for now he just had to get out and get some fresh air.


	2. Gabriel

Gabriel stalked through the halls, feeling like a tiger who'd just been released from his cage. He didn't know what he wanted to do, but the freedom, knowing he had been unintentionally bound for ten years was heady, and he was eager to explore the new world. The decrepit idiots back in the meeting room had no idea what life was about. They were too busy whining about an elaborate drug dream to see that the past, even if it had been real, didn't matter as much as right now.

The hallway was littered with students, who were just killing time, by and large. There were alcoves in the hall, and each of these had a chair with a writing tablet attached and a lamp. They were all taken up by kids with laptops, each one playing a video game, or showing off some feat of photoshopping, or something similarly uninteresting. Besides, they all looked at him strangely. He was used to women thinking of him as an attractive, if kind of broody young man, but most of them seemed to purposely avoid him, especially if he paid them any attention. It took him nearly ten minutes to realize that he looked old to them. That, combined with the muscle loss in his face must be the problem. He sighed in frustration, but just chalked it up to something he'd have to deal with until he had fully recovered. Yet another joy of being the odd one out.

"Stupid island." He was still surprised at how deep his voice was. It must have changed while he was in the coma. How strange. But at least he was alive. That was more than he'd thought would happen when things had gotten really hairy. Maybe he'd track down Darwin. After all, he owed the man his life. It occurred to Gabriel that he was old enough to drink now. That was going to be interesting. Maybe they'd get a beer later. That was a cheerful thought. Of course, the Professor would probably balk, saying that he wasn't mature enough. But Gabriel wasn't kissing the professor's ass like everyone else there. He could sneak out later, probably.

First, though, he wanted to get some lunch, something unhealthy and delicious. He wondered if someone would drive him to the closest fast food place. After a minute, he remembered that he didn't have any money, either. So he was going to have to find someone really generous, or really easy to fool. Even better if it wound up being one of the cute girls hanging around. The odds of that seemed to be slim or none. Which was a little depressing, honestly.

He heard someone make a noise behind his back. It sounded like 'tsk', but he wasn't really paying attention. That is, until a perfectly manicured hand set itself gently on his shoulder. The fact that it was followed by a throaty voice with a strong English accent didn't hurt, either. "You just need to find someone bored enough to take you." Her voice was familiar. She was one of the special nurses that had been brought in. He turned, and became aware that she was very close to him. If she weren't an attractive woman, it would have been uncomfortably close, but given the situation, it was not close enough. He wondered if this was going to be how he felt around women for the rest of his life. It sucked, in a way. "Oh, don't be dramatic. It's hardly a tragedy."

He blushed. She was a telepath. He was going to have to work harder on keeping his thoughts pure. "Are you bored enough to take me to get a hamburger?" Despite the words he used, his tone was still very innocent. He'd only been twelve when all this stuff had happened, so he didn't know quite how to act around adults, yet. It was still kind of sinking in that he was also an adult, despite his thinking about the mischief he could get into. More than anything else, Gabriel was a child in an adult's body, wearing it like an awkward suit.

"Sure. You can even order a big kids' meal, if you want." Her tone was teasing, but it made him smile. She was a nice lady. He liked talking to her. "Beside, I enjoy driving, and you're one of the more upbeat of the group. And if you call me Miss Braddock, I will hate you forever." He laughed a little and blushed, shaking his head. She smiled widely. "Good. Let's go, then." Her smile made things in his body do things he hadn't realized they could do outside of a roller coaster ride, or something like that. His stomach, in particular, was flopping around like a dying fish.

It was a good trip. He joked and laughed with Betsy, and even stopped stuttering every time he called her that. They chatted about the movies he was going to see the whole way there, comparing their relative merit. The closest burger places happened to be one of his favorites, and that made him happy. The menu had changed a little, gotten bigger, but not so much that he didn't know what he wanted to get. He ordered the largest meal they had and a shake to go with it. He was a little blown away when Betsy ordered the same thing. "You're going to eat all that?" His voice was almost full of awe. Her frame was so tiny. No way she could put that all away.

She just smiled at him. "You'll see. I do work out quite a bit." They stood around for a bit. Gabriel found himself wondering if he was ever going to get his hormones under control, or if he was just going to burst into flames every time a cute girl bent over. Something in him told him it would be the latter rather than the former. Maybe he'd get used to it. He hoped he would. Life was confusing enough as it was, even without the sudden surge of lust and sexual energy.

Betsy was quiet next to him, lost in her own thoughts, or someone else's. He wondered what it would be like to have her powers. His powers were fine for making things broken, but to be able to hear the thoughts of the people around him. . . it must be great. You would never have to get caught for anything you did wrong, but you'd always know if someone was lying to you. There really couldn't be a better power. Part of him was waiting for her to chime in, probably to assure him her powers weren't so great.

If she had heard him, though, she didn't make any mention of it, and soon Gabriel was focused on getting their meal and finding a place to sit. "So why did you become a nurse? You could do anything you wanted to, and probably make a lot more money doing it." That was the main point of work, after all, wasn't it?

She shrugged, eating another fry before answering. "I enjoy helping people. Take your case, for example. You went from being the produce section to regaining your full personalities with relatively little physical and psychological damage. Working in collaboration with Miss Frost was quite enjoyable, also." She smirked a little. He wondered what that was about. Hopefully he would find out. He wanted to know more about her. "What do you think of your brothers?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. They're pretty serious. . . I don't think we have a whole lot in common. They're both so busy trying to figure out what they've got going on with their girls, or their friends. . . I'm kind of glad I don't have any friends here. I can actually be myself, instead of wondering who I am." This deep thought was accompanied by a slurp on his shake.

Betsy smiled softly. "That's a very smart way of looking at things. You're a surprise, Gabriel. We'll have to have lunch together again. Are you looking forward to moving into your own room?" Now that they knew what was going on in the world, they would be encouraged to take their own rooms, to interact with the other students and hopefully help them decide what was real and what wasn't.

Gabriel laughed. "Definitely. I won't miss having Lorna and Jean barging in every ten minutes to show me pictures of Nelson Mandela or cute cats singing the 'Immigrant Song'. Or listening to everyone whine all the time." He gave Betsy a smirk. This was pretty neat. Having someone pay attention to him, and only him, was nice, too. Beside, she was really nice.

They finished their food, and went back to the Institute, still chatting and laughing. The talking started as soon as they got back. Gabriel noticed that people were more interested in him almost immediately. For better or worse, he had to admit it was pretty neat. Betsy laughed, and smirked at him, winking. _Want to really give them something to talk about?_

He thought for a moment, then nodded eagerly. _Yeah._ He was surprised, and didn't immediately understand what had happened. Her lips were warm and soft, and her hands were very gentle on his face. He groaned softly, and heard the chatter around them cease, and then start up even louder, with several other boys heckling them both. Gabriel didn't care at the moment, though. He grinned widely at Betsy, who smirked back.

_You're welcome._


	3. Jean

Jean found herself in her old room after the meeting. She had a lot to think about, and this was the best place to start. Her mind clearly remembered the morning before they'd gone to fight Krakoa, now. She'd been so determined to get this done with, to spend as much time with Scott as she could on the date they'd planned for that night. It was somewhat humiliating to realize that when she'd been brought in, she'd been wearing her best underwear, or what was left of them. Something about the fighting always made them seek each other out afterward, and Jean liked to be prepared as much as Scott did.

Apparently she was had not been prepared enough enough. She touched her stomach as she walked. Even before anyone had told her about Nathan, she'd known something had happened to her body. There would be no reason for her to have so many stretch marks if she'd just been in a coma.

The door to her room was locked, and she frowned, using her tk to open it. She didn't want to cause any trouble, she just. . . wanted to see what it looked like. There were posters all over the walls of Dazzler, and the room was a mess. Jean stood in the doorway for a moment, just letting it sink in. The curtains she'd picked out with Warren on a whim were gone, replaced by blinds that blocked out all sunlight surrounded by multi-color Christmas lights. Her bed was gone, replaced by one that was a style she didn't like very much.

She closed the door with a sigh and kept walking, not even sure what to think, anymore. "Lord, what a day." She shook her head, and kept walking aimlessly. She was heading toward the recreation room, apparently. That was fine, really. Anywhere she happened to go was fine.

There were people already in there, and they were talking loudly, though their voices were full of laughter instead of anger. They were a man, a woman, and a little boy named Nathan, by the sound of it. She stayed outside the room, her heart pounding in her chest as she listened to these strangers playing with her son. It was extremely surreal to her. First she'd given birth to a son she didn't even known had been conceived, and now strangers were caring for it, treating it as their own. It didn't even make sense to her why it bothered her.

"Wade, stop hogging all the square ones. How are we going to get this finished if you're going to hoard all the pieces we need?" The woman's voice was teasing, and Jean heard the familiar sound of Legos shifting in a bucket. They were building something together, or trying to, at least.

"Hey, I can't help it if your design can't accommodate changes in available materials. Pretend you've just been attacked by Mongols and need to rebuild, or even better- hey!" He was cut off mid sentence by something that made a 'thud' noise. Jean assumed he'd been punched in the arm. Especially when she heard the little boy laugh loudly.

There was more shuffling of the Legos, and the adults kept talking, each one trying to top the other in their comebacks. Jean listened with an odd smile. It sounded like the pair of them got along very well. She was surprised when there was a tiny hand on her arm. "Hi." She looked down, blinking a bit. "Are you feeling better?" Jean eyed the boy, smiling softly. He was going to be handsome, that much was for certain. He had sharp blue eyes, and very fine features. He was slim and tall for his age, almost reaching Jean's shoulders.

"I am. Thank you. You're very polite." She smiled wider at him, and he smiled in return.

He gave her a wide, mischievous grin. It was a lot like the expression Scott had before he said something dirty, though she doubted that was what was on Nathan's mind. "Mom says it's important to fake people out. Wanna play Legos with us? Dad's bogarting the square ones." The information came out all in one piece, as though it were all equally relevant to him. His use of the word 'bogart' made her laugh a little. He seemed to be all smiles, but he smiled even more when he made her laugh.

The chattering in the room stopped, and there was the sound of someone getting up. In a moment, a woman with skin as white as paper poked her head out, looking around the boy. She gave Jean a somewhat uneasy smile, before turning to the boy. Jean marveled a little more, since the woman was the same height as the boy. No doubt Nathan would get taller than his adoptive mother by at least a foot. "Hey, short stuff. What are you doing?" Her voice was soft and warm, and when she smiled at him, it was a much easier, natural smile.

She was quickly joined by a man who had hideous disfiguring scars. The man moved gracefully, as though his body were fluid instead of flesh, but the effect was completely ruined by his skin. "Look at him. Takes after me, already got a hot chick hanging on his every word." The man looked as though he was about to go on, but the woman nudged him with her elbow. Jean couldn't imagine any woman hanging off of his every word, at least while looking at his face, but obviously at least one person thought he was worthwhile.

The boy looked at his parents for a minute, then back at Jean. "She's a nice lady. Can she play with us?" His eyes were wide and sincere as he looked at them, obviously playing the 'I'm so cute and innocent card'. The woman shrugged, turning toward the man. Jean expected a few exchanged looks and a decision to be made from them. But what followed didn't even come close to what she'd expected.

"I dunno. What you think, Wade?" She sounded completely unconcerned, as though Nathan had just asked if he could change the t.v. channel.

He shrugged as well. "Hot woman. Playing Legos. I could only ask for baby oil and a pillow fight for a better boner inducing- goddammit your elbows are bony!" He glared at the shorter woman, who had dug her elbow into his ribs viciously.

"Boner? For God's sake Wade, you wonder why Nate curses so much. I can't take you anywhere." She sighed, shaking her head. She gave Jean a look, as if to say 'see what I put up with?'

Wade's voice was sulky and somewhat snappish when he replied. "Reality check, we live here, Dom." He poked her side, obviously not willing to engage her physically. Jean wondered what the history was between them that it had been natural for her to shove her elbow into his ribs.

"Shut up." Domino snapped back, though her expression was turning from exasperated to gleeful. So they were doing this for fun? Or were they just completely dysfunctional? Jean was completely at a loss.

"Never gonna happen."

Nate looked up at Jean, smiling mischievously again. "He's not bogarting the square ones anymore." This he imparted like it was a great secret, obviously happy about the fact.

Jean couldn't help but laugh. "I think I'll come play with you then. Will they do this for long?"

He shook his head, leading her into the rec room. "Nah. They act like airheads, but they're pretty good at keeping track of things. I think if they minded, they'd have said something." Jean couldn't argue with that logic, and she didn't really want to. It was so bizarre to talk to him, but at the same time, she liked it. He was intelligent, and seemed to be well adjusted, in spite of it all. "We're working on a fortress. Wanna help me make the guard towers?"

He sat down cross legged on the carpeted floor, and started messing with the blocks. Jean shrugged and sat next to him. "Sure. Show me what to do, then." She'd done odder things in her time.

Nathan showed her what he wanted, and they started building. Eventually Wade came back and sat down next to the boy, rubbing the boy's head playfully. Nathan made a face at him, and grabbed a handful of the square legos, just in case. "Hey, dad."

The woman come in next and sat next to her husband, between him and Jean. She gave Jean a smile again. "You seem to be handling it better than Scott. I'm glad. I owe you a drink." Her tone was a lot like Nathan's had been. Each fact was just as important as the one before it, which made it sound rather flat and unemotional. Jean wondered what that was all about, and decided she would probably find out in time.

"I think I could use a drink, honestly. I've always wondered what Harry's looks like on the inside." Jean's tone had an edge to it, and the other woman shrugged. But then again, it wasn't like Jean's problems were easy to understand, and if Jean herself couldn't do it, she could hardly fault someone else for not being able to do so, either.

"I've seen better and I've seen worse." Domino looked like she was about to say something else, but she was cut off. This didn't seem to surprise the pale woman, or annoy her overly much.

"Oh! Remember the bar in Baghdad? Good times, I'm telling you. Everyone should have to fight with their clothing on fire." Wade's voice held genuine excitement and Jean got the feeling that he was actually serious. What kind of a man was this? What kind of people were raising her son?

The woman just shook her head. "Hush, Wade." No elbow this time, but her words were sharper, full of warning.

They lapsed into thoughtful silence, the adults building towers while Nate built the walls. Finally Wade spoke up again. "So, Nate, what you want to make for dinner? I was thinking we could hunt down a wild boar, Stab it with pointy sticks. Sound good?" He looked at Nathan, obviously doing this to tease the little boy, and probably also to break the silence.

Nate smiled widely at Wade, and that told Jean all she had to know. He was happy, and they were a good family. She stood up, smiling at the boy. "I have to go, thank you for letting me play, Nathan." He smiled at her as well, and answered his father happily.

She went out the door, sighing a little. Well, that was that. She'd apparently be meeting Domino for drinks later, but that wouldn't be until after dinner. Now she had to fill the time.

Maybe it was talking to Nate, or seeing Domino and Wade teasing each other, but she went toward Scott's new room, hoping he was in there. The door was closed, and she knocked softly. For a moment, there was no answer, and she wondered if he was elsewhere. But just as she was about to leave, the door cracked, and a tousled head of brown hair poked itself out. "Huh? Oh, hi Jean." He blinked (she could see the muscles moving a little bit), and offered her a wan smile. "Guess it's about time, huh?"

She nodded and stepped in. "It seemed as good a time as any. Are you okay with that?"

He nodded, moving back away from the door. It hurt a little, to see how thin he was. The tank top and shorts he'd worn to bed could have fit on, and probably came from, one of the younger students. She offered him a smile, and sat on the chair next to his bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her. For a minute, he didn't speak. Jean found herself piping up first, though she hadn't meant to. "You don't believe this is real." It wasn't a question, because she knew the answer. He shook his head. "You think this is a dream. Something Wanda cooked up."

"Of course it is. You weren't there when it happened. You didn't see what she did." He stuck his chin out, the surefire cue for him to be a stubborn as humanly possible. She sighed a little, surprisingly frustrated.

"Scott, what she did could not have spread this far. She wasn't this powerful, plain and simple. Even if she managed to link up with the professor's mind, she couldn't have affected me, I was out in space."

For a moment there was silence, and Jean waited patiently for whatever his reply would be. Finally he opened his mouth. "I don't know that you're real, Jean. She was doing insane things, creating children out of nothing. You could be just another construct. There's just nothing real here. . . I can't disprove this world's existence, so I don't believe that it exists."

"Oh for God's sake, Scott, this wasn't her. Think of all the things that happened to us. How unbelievable all of it was. This world is orderly, it makes sense. If it's not real then-" she didn't want to wake up. The real world could take a flying leap, for all she cared.

He shrugged. "I'm sorry. You're right, to a certain point, but if this _is_ Wanda's doing, then we don't know that it's stable. . . she was insane, Jean. We could all be goldfish tomorrow."

"What do you propose we do? Beat her up? Tell her to put it right? Is she even here? Scott, please don't- I want this to be real. I want to be myself, and not the Phoenix. I want to be with you, and to fix the bare spots on our relationship that this caused."

He was silent, not looking at her anymore. Jean sat for a moment, a bit stunned. He was going to reject her. There was no doubt in her mind. When he looked up again, he was smiling a little. "You know, I do still love her. Real or not, she was a good match for me. I'm not promising you anything, Jean. But I do want to try with you." Not only because the Emma here was completely different. Saying that he still loved Emma was correct, but it would be equally correct to say that he still loved Jean as well. He suspected the hurt of her death would have eased in time, and he'd have either moved on from Emma or stayed with her. It might have been wonderful. It might have been fake.

Jean touched his knee softly. "Hey, eyes up here, mister. I love you, and I know that this is confusing and horrible, but we're going to get through this."

He nodded, and she could see him searching for a different topic. "Nathan's an interesting kid. I wish it didn't hurt so much to see him." His eyes were still on the floor, so Jean pushed his chin up with her hand. There was no need for him to ruin his posture.

"He's a beautiful boy. I feel sad, because I never got the chance to raise him, but at the same time, it might be better this way. We were so young, Scott. His parents have at least five years on us, if the man's close in age to the woman. What would we have done, given the chance to choose?" Her tone was sad, for the first time. The idea of having a kid was extremely unreal, but she couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like.

Scott's lips twitched a little, toward a smile. "I would have loved it. We were young, yeah, but we were ready, I think. I said it before we started having sex, and I meant it. I would have loved to have raised him with you." He nodded a little, meaning every word he said. Jean didn't need her telepathy to know that.

"I know. But we're not done yet. I mean, we've still go years to go before we're not able to have children, and if we can get past the weird dream thing. . . I'm sure the opportunities available to us would be endless." She realized that she was holding her breath after she spoke. His response meant the world to her, and she didn't even want the sound of her own breathing to disturb it.

He thought for a moment. "I don't know, Jean. If this is real, then yes, I want to be with you a great deal. If it's not. . . I don't know what to do, really."

She nodded, and then moved to the bed next to him, kissing him deeply. He stiffened for a moment, then let himself respond, wrapping his arms around her, relaxing into her touch. The kiss was long and hot, and Jean groaned as his hands roamed over her body.

Slowly they pulled apart, faces flushed and breathing a little heavy. Jean smirked a little. "Was that real enough for you, Scott?"

He smiled at her, laughing. "I'm not sure. We'll need to do it a few more times to get a good reading."

She giggled and pulled him close again, willing to take all night to convince him of her reality.


	4. Alex

Alex was sitting out on the porch a week later. He'd mostly regained his 'normal' appearance, and was once again in the power limiting suit, the faint glow from the circles on the front and back visible through the tank top he'd worn over it. He had a soda in his hand and was looking out over the well tended lawns of the estate. Part of him wanted to blow them up just for sport, just to vent some of the frustrations and problems he felt had welled up inside him like his powers, always ready to explode outward.

He felt Lorna behind him before she spoke, but he didn't turn until she did. "Hey, angsty pants. Save a seat for me?" She might as well have saved her breath, since she plopped down next to him anyway. It was funny to him, how the women had changed. They were not as wasted looking, and both of them had huge breasts which only got larger as they got their body weight back up. Lorna was, he had to admit to himself, looking damn good. Now that he had enough energy to be relatively active during the day, his mind had turned to other things. Lorna was one of them.

"No. My invisible friend is sitting there. You have to move." He smirked at her and she giggled, sticking her tongue out at him. He reached down into the tiny cooler he'd brought and handed her a root beer. She smiled, cracking it open, joining him in looking out at the grass.

"Been out here long?" She was dressed in shorts and a tank top, which the girls had bought on a shopping trip with some of the newer ladies at the institute. She seemed unaware that her long, lean legs were clearly visible, and that it might have an effect on him.

He shook his head, heaving his empty can at the grass, incinerating it before it landed. "Nope. Just needed to get away from the episode of Degrassi I was somehow injected into." He didn't honestly care which underage kid was sleeping with/cheating on/whatever some other underage kid. It was just annoying hearing them going on like that.

Lorna nodded, sipping her drink. He was so cute when he was being sarcastic. Fate had been kind to him, as far as she could see. He'd regained some of his lost muscle mass, and it was obvious that when he gained it all back, he was going to be beautiful again. She sighed a little, setting her drink down on the bench, watching as the sweat collected, then slowly rolled down the side of the can. "I heard you're leaving as soon as you've got a clean bill of health." Her tone was neutral, though her heart wrenched even saying it. How could he go, after all of that, and leave them behind?

"Yeah. New Mexico. I don't have my teaching certificate anymore, but I've already spoken to the college we- I went to in the crazy dream and they're looking over my FAFSA now. I'll be a college boy in a few weeks." It was a novel idea. After all that simulated hard work, now he had to go through the real thing.

For a minute neither one said anything. The silence stretched, becoming more and more awkward. When Lorna spoke, it nearly made Alex jump. "Asshole." Lorna was surprised it came out of her mouth, and covered it, as though it might go on and continue its diatribe without her.

Alex jerked and turned toward her, his mouth open. "What?" He'd been expecting a reaction. He'd even been expecting a negative reaction. This wasn't Lorna's normal style, though. She was honest, but not crude.

She blinked and curled up, tucking her legs under her chin. It was awkward now that she was much more endowed, but she managed. "Well, you're just going to take off on us. I mean, what am I supposed to think? We went through all that pretend hell, but the emotions behind it, I think, were real. The situation was simulated, but not the response." He winced at how soft her voice was, how her shoulders curled in on themselves, as though she might sink into her own body if given the opportunity.

His sadness for her was absent from his voice, though. If she was going to sit there and call him names, he saw no reason to play nice with her. "Yeah, and that turned out great, didn't it? Were we even talking to each other at the end, there?" His words bit more than he'd expected, and he frowned when Lorna curled up a little more.

"Yeah, but you're not pretending to be evil and I'm not crazy. Or possessed. Or probably even Magneto's daughter, really. I mean, how ridiculous would that be? Pietro and Wanda sure as hell don't act older than me, or look appreciably older. The bullshit we went through in there is not going to be the same bullshit we go through here." She didn't turn to face him. He turned away from her, looking out at the grass.

"I don't think I can start that again, Lorna. It was fun when we were just doing this one favor for Xavier, and then we were going to learn to control our powers and never come back again. But I don't have control, and I'm not sticking around to see what kind of hell his universe wants to put us through. I just want to live." He said the words thoughtfully, not wanting to get angry at her. She didn't deserve that, the things he was mad about weren't truly her fault.

She huffed. "And in order to live you have to leave us all behind? Thanks for the vote of confidence, jerkface." She stood, shaking her head. "You know what? Go to New Mexico. See if I care."

He stuffed his anger down, doing his best to keep calm. They had no obligations to one another, and if she couldn't see why he wanted and needed to get the Hell out of here, that was her own damn fault. "I'm not doing this to hurt you, Lorna. Stop acting like a two year old."

"Stop running from your problems." She shot back over her shoulder as she walked toward the door to the mansion. Her voice was loud and curt, and Alex knew she was about to either lose her temper completely, or cry. Probably she was going inside to stop him from seeing either. If he was smart, he'd just shut his mouth and let her go.

"Stop assuming you know what the hell I'm doing." He replied hotly, wondering what gave her the right to lay a guilt trip on him. If she was so upset, then she needed to talk about it like an adult. Name calling and emotional manipulation were not going to convince him that they had a relationship worth keeping. Especially not with the way the whole mansion seemed to be full of bad memories that had uncertain reality.

Lorna jerked the door open, and was nearly trampled by Gabriel, who was running from Betsy, who was chasing him with a rubber spatula. Lorna moved out of the way, watching dumbly. Alex watched as well, shaking his head. For a brief moment, they were united in their confusion at Gabriel and Betsy's antics. "That was weird."

Lorna nodded, and went inside. He'd hoped she might have been shocked into being calm enough to discuss their problems like and adult. He sighed and looked out at the lawn, pointing his hand at it and blasting a deep gouge in the perfect turf, close enough to Gabriel to scare him, but not close enough to actually hurt him. Gabriel fell, and Betsy caught up with him, laughing triumphantly. Alex stood and went into the mansion, shaking his head as he walked.

The last thing he expected to do was run into Lorna on her way out. Neither one was paying a bit of attention, and when the collided both fell backward, balance still being a little off in the new shapes their bodies had taken. Lorna blushed as she hovered, and bent down to offer Alex a hand up, a black plastic bag dangling from her other hand. He took her hand and hauled himself up, nodding to her. "Sorry."

"No, it was my fault. Head in the clouds." She gave him a wan smile. "I just wanted to give you this." She held out the bag. "You gave it to me before, back when we went out that first time and I forgot my coat. I guess you'll probably need it. The desert gets kind of cold at night."

He opened the bag and touched the fleece of the jacket he'd loaned her, which she had somehow managed to keep. It smelled like flowers, vaguely, and he wondered how long it would have kept that smell, or if she was still curling up with it like a rather odd teddy bear the way she used to when they were too tired to be together.

He shook his head. "No. I'll be alright. I'd rather think that you might still be cuddling with it, even if I am far away."

She sighed. "You're still an asshole. Why can't you just fucking wait? You're a week ahead of me in your rehab, would it kill you to be here seven more days?" She shook her head, turning around again. "I want to go with you. I don't want to be alone, I don't want to miss you anymore. What we had both in the dream and before it, was something I treasured. You're a good lover, a good friend, and being with you made me really happy. If you can't wait for me, and you really want to get away from all that history, then I don't want or need your stupid coat." It would be easier to deal with if he did take it and any other reminder of himself he'd left in her things. Maybe she'd just throw all her old stuff away and buy new things.

He stared at her for a minute, not sure what to say. He hadn't known she was behind him. He hadn't even really thought about what she would do. He had only thought about what he needed. He suspected that she had done the same, but he was leaving and not her, so that put him in the wrong. "Lorna. . . you never even asked if you could come with me. I assumed, since we didn't talk-"

"The first words out of your mouth when you left that ridiculous group meeting was that you didn't care what was real or not, you were getting the hell out. If that's how you feel, then just. Fucking. Go." She shook her head. "What we had was real. I think that's all I wanted to say to you, anyway. I'm sorry I called you an asshole."

He stared after her as she walked, throwing the jacket down with a irritated noise. "What the hell did I do to deserve that? You could have opened your mouth and said something. You're pretty vocal every other time." It didn't occur to him until after he'd said it that she might think he was talking about how loud she could be in the bedroom. Even if she did take it that way, he didn't think that increased anger was an appropriate response.

She stopped, turning slowly. "How dare you." She shook her head. "I'm not sorry anymore."

He stared. "Oh no you don't. I'm not letting you leave acting high and mighty. For God's sake, Lorna, maybe I just want to be away from all the dramatics." Maybe he should just shut up now, before things got really out of hand.

"Then you're doing a good job of putting them behind you." She turned into the kitchen, going out the back door. Alex shook his head and went up to his room, not wanting to deal with this bullshit. If Lorna wanted to act like a twelve year old, then she would, whether it was appropriate or not. He flopped on the bed, looking at the things he'd unpacked from his storage. Even though he had nothing as obvious as the coat Lorna'd stolen (which he had no intention of taking back), there were subtle reminders of her everywhere. This shirt brought out his eyes, in her opinion. The mirror close to the bed was kinky, and she had enjoyed watching them move in it when he had taken her from behind, watching his face twist in concentration as her cries-

He shook his head. If all they had was sex, it was better that they'd ended it, anyway. Whatever else they'd had in common could very well be gone now.

Alex was soon digging through his boxes, pulling out cds they'd made for each other, then borrowed back frequently. Their tastes in music had been remarkably similar. He tossed the CDs in the direction of the garbage can, which was quickly becoming buried under the pile of detritus. How had he managed to get so much stuff in such a short period of time?

Out of all the things in the boxes, he found a few shirts that didn't remind him of anything, and some jeans. He shoved all of this into the bag he'd originally brought his clothing in, back when he'd first moved in, and slung it on his back. He grabbed his wallet and shoved a baseball cap on his head. He knew he was in good health, so he saw no reason to stick around anymore. To hell with this place.


	5. Warren sNSFW

Warren sat in his family's mansion, staring at the wall. He'd moved out or the Xavier mansion a week or so after being released, and had spent the time sitting around, contemplating his next bold move. He wasn't sure what he wanted, really. Being an X-man had always been what gave his life's purpose. Now he was afraid to do it. It wasn't an unexpected feeling, and he knew the others felt the same way. Lorna, Bobby and Hank all had plans to leave the mansion (though Hank had left to go to NYU, and was intending to come back after attaining his degrees). The only ones who were staying of their own free will were Scott and Jean, naturally, and Gabriel, who was having a desperate flirtation with the lesbian nurse Betsy.

The door opened and he shifted a bit, smiling at Emma. She returned his smile, settling onto the bed next to him. Her white dress was stunning, though she had laughed when he'd bought it for her. He didn't know why, exactly, but he got along with her, and moving to Massechusettes had put him close to one of the lesser used mansions, which was far, far away from the home he'd grown up in, and his parents had died in. Having her close by had turned out to be a blessing. She was empathetic, but not to the point where she would let him mope for hours. "I see you've survived another school day. How are you, Warren?" She set her briefcase on the floor, crossing her perfect legs. Warren moved forward, catching her in a soft, long kiss. She groaned a little, melting into his touch. When the kiss broke she smiled at him, just a trace of smugness in her expression. "I see. Have you been behaving, then?"

He nodded, pushing the blankets off, showing her how excited he was to have her there. She shook her head, sighing in a long suffering manner. "You'd think you hadn't gotten laid in ten years." She smirked at him. He laughed and kissed her, pinning her to the foot of the bed.

His motions were efficient, and he knew she got excited when he asserted his dominance over her. "Mmm, maybe I did. Maybe you just couldn't stand the thought of leaving me to rot, and you rode me while I was out of it." He ground against the front of her panties, hands stroking over the straps of her garter belt, snapping one so it bouncd back, smacking her thigh with a satisfying noise.

She laughed, letting him take her panties off, spreading her legs for him once they were past her slick patent leather heels. She wrapped her legs around him, the heels biting in the flesh of his lower back and ass. "You'll never know, Warren. Beside, you're very active _now._"

He couldn't argue with that, and didn't want to. His hands moved to her shoulders, pinning her, and he found her, thrusting his cock roughly into her. She cried out in a sound that was almost like a cat's mewling, and he began fucking her without preamble, using her shoulders for leverage as he took her, his toned body rippling with every motion.

It was later that evening that Emma went to her home, full of dinner, promising to check up on him on her way to work. Warren watched her go, a little torn. It was fun to play with her, and she was certainly a workout, but she had made her intentions clear. Her work came first, and all other considerations second. She was helping Warren get used to the new world, and that was work to her. Building a relationship wasn't.

He didn't even know if he wanted that, really. The meeting he'd had with Candy after waking up had been pretty horrific. She had moved on, and blamed him for the heartbreak she'd suffered, as though he'd purposely gone into a coma, just to piss her off. It had ended with an arguement, and her husband had made her promise, when he thought they were out of earshot, never to put her through something like that again.

That had been his first night with Emma, and a little bit of a surprise as well. He'd thought that Emma and Betsy were lovers, the way they talked to each other. Emma had admitted to sleeping with Betsy a couple times, but nothing terribly serious. Mostly it had happened when their shifts overlapped too long, and all had been well in the medlab. Warren shivered a little to think there had been a lesbian tryst going on within line of sight and he hadn't even been aware. But the bottom line was that Emma and Betsy were both career girls, and sleeping around was just a way of diverting the gaping loneliness.

He'd slept with Betsy the next night, at her insistence. She had joked that she didn't normally do men, but she didn't want Emma getting too attached, since she'd only just now figured out how to make Betsy come continuously using psychic manipulation. Warren had thought it was improbable at the time. Now he knew better.

He tried to imagine how living with Emma would be, as he had done with Candy before. She would wake up, go to work, come home and fuck him, then shower and. . . that wasn't realistic. Even when she called, her main concern was for his mental health. He had once told her it would be better if his life were more stable, if he had constant companionship. She'd offered to go to the pound with him to pick out a dog, and he couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic. When he didn't try to lay claims she would listen to him, and they would chat for hours. But anytime he even hinted at asking her to stay a minute longer she closed up, shutting him down as quickly and kindly as possible. Obviously she was a career woman. He could respect that.

Still, it left him a lot of time to think about his place in life. Maybe it was time to decide what was important to him. He wondered what that was. He paced through his house, looking at all the empty, unused rooms. They had never been used, as far as he knew. It was about time to fill them up.

He nodded and picke up the nearest phone, dialing it quickly from memory. "Hey, Bobby. Yeah, I'm fine. You should come crash with me. I've got a bunch of rooms, and it's cold as hell here." He toyed with a knick knack on his desk, wings stretched out behind him. Cold was definitely a good word for it, especially after a conversation with Emma.

Bobby talked for a little bit, and it took some hauranging, but he finally convinced Bobby to think about it. Which meant he was probably going to come, but in his own time. Warren nodded, then sat, thinking. He knew this place like the back of his hand, so there wasn't much point in exploring. But he needed a focus point something to give himself meaning and purpose.

After a moment he called Emma again. The surprise in her voice was evident when she answered. "Is something wrong, Warren?"

He realized that she must have his number in her cell phone. It made perfect sense, really. She was just the type to skip the beginning small talk. But she sounded genuinely worried for him. "No, I'm alright Emma. Could you use some teachers? I know at least half of us have knowledge equal to a masters in several fields, and the Xavier Institute brings back a lot of memories for everyone."

Emma thought for a moment, but only a moment. He had to hand it to her, she knew her stuff like the back of her hand. "I suppose I could use more teachers. Who do you think would come here?" He could practically hear the gears in her head whirring, deciding which X-men she would prefer to have, and where they would fit into her master plan.

"Well, Bobby can teach math, and almost anyone else has some experience. Henry would probably prefer to go back to the institute, but I'll try to get him anyway." He made a list in his head. Scott and Jean probably wouldn't come, Alex and Lorna both had geophysics masters, and. . . that was it, beside himself. "I can teach business."

The silence on the other end was pregnant with meaning. She was going to accept. When the asnwer was no, she knew it right away and wasn't shy about saying so. "Alright. I'll set up a mock class for anyone you can get down here. If you do well, and begin work on teaching certifications immediately, I'll allow you to teach." She paused, and he heard paper shuffling. "I'm glad you found something to do, Warren; and I'll be very glad to have more mutant teachers." Her voice sounded different, pleased, perhaps. Maybe even proud. He wasn't sure what he'd done to warrant her pleasure or pride. Maybe she was just glad that one of her cases was finally coming around.

He nodded. "Yeah, there aren't as many adults as there were in the dream." It was strange, really, that they'd added more people in their imaginings. Perhaps it made sense, in a way. Nobody wants to think they're alone in the world. The thought was a pleasant change in topic, and it gave them something intelectual to talk about next time, between the sex and her leaving. He thought for a moment, and a slow smile crossed his face. More shuffling came from Emma's end. "Hey Emma, can you come by tonight? To, uh. iron out the details?"

She was silent a moment, and he smirked. She was coming, or at least she wanted to. "I think so. I'll see if I can squeeze you in. How is eight for you?" He knew that she knew his schedule was open. This was a trick question. What purpose did it serve, though? Was she giving him an opening to hit on her, or to joke around?

"I'm open if you're available." His voice was soft, thoughtful. What did he want from this meeting, from her? What did she want from him? This was the world that had been his whole life, but the years had passed, making him feel as graceless as when he'd been a teenager.

"I'll be by, then. Thank you for the offer, Warren. Get some rest before then." Her voice was warmer. That, at least, was nice. He smiled softly, listening to the click of the call disconnecting. She was rude, and purposely avoided protocol, but it made her intriguing, and efficient as hell with her school. Working for her, if he met her standards, was bound to be an interesting experience.


End file.
